


Something New

by DM (dragonmist310)



Category: DCU, Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 12:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmist310/pseuds/DM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that he's back, Kon is determined to spend as much time with his best friend as possible. But his feelings for Tim run deeper than that and with a little evidence, it's apparent that so do Tim's. But Tim is still getting his life back together and Kon doesn't want to pressure him into a relationship. He's gotta do this carefully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something New

“You’re in love with him.” The words hit Conner like ton of kryptonite—stripping him of his powers and nearly bringing him to his knees. He turned slowly, looking at Cassie, but still gripping the doorway. She looked back at him, her face straight. But she wasn’t as good as hiding things as Tim, and Conner saw the hurt look buried beneath her neutral expression. Her accusation ripped the breath from his lungs and he was unable to say anything. She was right; he had given in a long time ago to that, but when she said it aloud….

“Cassie,” he started, floundering for something cohesive to say.

“It’s okay,” she said, giving him a sad smile. He stepped away from the door as she drew closer. She brought her hands up to cup his face, gently, the way she used to when they were together before Conner had been killed. “It’s okay.”

“Cassie…,” Conner tried again, placing his hand over hers. She stopped him, shaking her head, a faint smile on her lips.

“I never doubted that you loved me—I know that you did, that you always will. And I’ve gotten over it at this point. What choice did I have? I’m alright now—hell, I might even be at a better place. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger huh?” she stopped, realizing what she said, and chuckled somberly. “Never mind. Sorry. What I mean that I’m not upset that you’re in love with Tim. I know what you see in him—I used to see it in him too, when you were gone.” Conner gave her a surprised look. He never knew about _that_. But he let her continue.

“But he pulled away from me. From all of us. He became someone that I couldn't even recognize when he had that stupid cape on. And when he didn’t, it was even worse. I tried to get through to him, but he was so jaded that he wasn't even _Tim_ anymore. He began blaming himself for everything and no matter what I said, I couldn’t change his mind. You know what he said to me once? He said ‘Cassie, you’d better stay away from me or something might happen to you too. I can’t bear to lose someone else.’ And then you came back from the dead. And finally I saw that light in his eyes again. I used to think that, inside, he died with you. You brought him back to life, Conner.

“That’s how I knew he loved you, too, and not just as his best friend. You were something much more than that to him. He might not have even known it, but when you came back it was like a switch had been flipped and for the first time since you died I saw him _smile_ again. And he smiled for you.”

“You noticed all that?” Conner breathed out after taking in everything she said. The small shard of hope she handed to him was… well, he wasn’t sure he had to words for it but he knew how precious it was.

“I might be blond but I’m not _that_ blond,” she said. She slipped her hands away, bringing them to rest on his shoulders.

“I just…. I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Conner admitted with a sigh. He had been hanging out with Tim a lot lately. Well, in all relativeness. Tim had his plate full and stacked with desserts on top, but still he’d made time for Conner which always made him feel a little guilty. Though as guilty as it made him feel, he wouldn’t take back a single second he spent with his best friend.

“Whatever you do, you need to be careful with him.” Cassie said seriously.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that he’s still partially all closed up. He’s afraid of getting close to people.” Of course he was. How could someone get close to people when they were so afraid of them _dying_ , as per past experience?

“What do I do?” he asked.

“I don’t know. But I do know that he feels really comfortable around you. Just hang out with him. Make him feel wanted. Eventually you’ll figure out what to do, I guess,” Cassie suggested. It sounded a lot easier than it was going to be. But he had to start somewhere.

 

 

Conner didn’t know when exactly it all began. His deeper feelings for Tim, that is. The first time he saw Tim after coming back his first thoughts had been _“Wow you’ve changed a lot since I was gone.”_ And it was true. He was taller—now nearly at eye level—and his lean body had become more defined and muscular, though he was still quite slender in comparison. There were no boyish features left in his face—all replaced by sharp cheekbones and an angular jaw. His hair was longer too. It had once been short and close-cropped, but he’d let it grow out so it reached past the nape of his neck. His voice was deeper, smoother, richer. The only things that really remained the same were his eyes which were a clear blue-gray, and Conner figured it was because humans didn’t have naturally changing eye colors. Yet somehow they seemed darker too, but that was probably due to the dark circles that seemed ever-present under Tim’s eyes these days.

Conner’s subsequent thoughts on Tim had been along the lines of _“When did he become so hot?”_ Of course Tim was always good-looking, he supposed. Many a hero and villain alike were known for commenting on Tim’s appearance. But he’d gone from alluringly cute to devastatingly gorgeous. It was with those thoughts that Conner realized that something wasn’t quite the same.

At first he’d chalked it up to weird post-death feelings. But who was he kidding? Maybe his feelings for Tim were a bit more than just friendly even before he died. But he had been content in just ignoring such feelings. After all, their friendship was more important to him than a could-be relationship. And then something happened. Something that made it impossible to ignore.

It was Oracle who was technically responsible.  How she knew about it all was still a mystery to him, but then again, Barbra knew everything. Maybe that’s why she and Tim were such good friends, and that would help explain how she knew about _them_ in the first place.

The _them_ in question were voicemails. About a hundred of them—maybe more. They had been left on Conner’s old cell phone. He’d gotten a new one when he got back, but Barbra had told him to listen to the old voicemails. He figured they were all from people calling him to find out whether or not he was really dead, but then he realized that they were all from the same person: Tim.

They were all so depressing, especially the beginning ones. He knew Tim hadn’t taken his death well, but never knew just how much it had affected him. He sat there one evening in his bedroom, listening to each and every one of them with a heavy heart.

 _I don’t know why I’m leaving this. I know you’re gone.”_ A long pause. Sniffling that hinted that he’d been crying. _“I miss you, Kon. I miss you so goddamn much and I’m so sorry. I should have been there, I should have been there—I could have done something. I’m so sorry.”_ Of course Tim blamed himself. He blamed himself for everything, even if it was impossible for it to be his fault. But Conner only blamed himself for it. If he hadn’t lost his head when Cassie got hurt, if he had just listened to Nightwing, it would have worked out. And he could have saved everyone from this heartache. He could have saved Tim.

The next ones were no less happy. But Conner had listened to each and every single one of them, trying to hold himself together as he listened to Tim slip further and further away from the boy he used to be with each message. It was like he was listening to Tim’s diary, intimately witnessing his descent into darkness. Some of them were short, only lasting a minute or two, but Tim told him everything. From things as mundane as school or about his missions all the way to his cloning project in which he tried to resurrect Conner. It had ultimately failed and in anguish, Tim had destroyed the lab. Conner had been pretty upset (or maybe just a little freaked out) when he had first found out that Tim had tried something like that, but Tim was so far _gone_ that he couldn’t say that he was entirely surprised. The part that might have caught him off guard was the fact that he’d go to such lengths. People didn’t usually try to clone their best friend one hundred times before giving up unless….

It was really the last message that drove it all home.

 _"There’s so many things I never got to say. So many things I never told you. Like how grateful I was that you were my friend. How I always felt like at least someone wanted me around. How happy you always made me feel, just by being there. Or how much you really meant to me. I never got to say goodbye. I never got to tell you that I love you—but even if you’re gone I still love you, Conner. You mean so much to me that I can barely understand it. Please….”_ Tim never finished his request. His voice had broken before trailing off into soft sobs and he ended the message there. Conner swore he could feel his heart shattering into a million pieces. He didn’t know what to do except lay there and weep, finally realizing how much everything had been turned upside down. And Tim hadn’t taken the fall easily because Conner wasn’t there to catch him—not this time.

The next time he saw Tim was particularly painful. They were just hanging out, playing some video games, and Conner kept trying to think of some way to bring up the voicemails. But in the end he had decided that it was probably better if he acted like they didn’t exist at all. They were all Tim’s most precious secrets. Conner wasn’t even sure that he was meant to hear them at all. If he was, wouldn’t Tim have told him about it? But maybe Tim didn’t want to dig up something that took him so long to burry. So Conner didn’t mention them at all. He tried to act like everything was normal—laughing and joking around while all he wanted to do was hold Tim close, as if by hugging him tightly enough he could squeeze all the hurt and the pain out of him.

So the problem was not really whether or not Tim returned his feelings. Conner was certain that Tim felt _something_ more than friendship and it was pretty evident that it was at least a little romantic at this point. He had picked up on the mysterious little looks Tim would give him, holding his gaze for a few seconds more than normal, before coolly looking away. He’d often catch Tim looking at him, which was strange because if Red Robin was watching you, you’d never notice—unless he let his guard down; unless he let you. He’d noticed that their hugs had treaded out of polite-and-friendly territory, lasting longer than the usual two seconds and going all the way up to five Mississippi! And he remembered that first hug they shared when Conner had come back. Tim had thrown his arms around him without a word, clinging to him with what Conner could recognize as desperation. It was the type of hug you gave someone as you begged them to save you from yourself.

Thus, the real problem was not jarring Tim out of his comfort zone. He didn’t want to pressure Tim into a relationship while he was just getting his life back together after everything that had happened to him. It wouldn’t be fair.

Hence, Conner had decided to play the waiting game.

 

 

Conner began to realize why Tim often teased him about his lack of patience. It was because he was probably the least patient person he knew, next to Bart, and that guy was a Speedster. Conner wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up without just breaking down, grabbing Tim, and kissing him until he was dizzy. Every time they hung out, it felt like he was falling more and more in love with his best friend. But he had to remember what Cassie had told him about being careful. Though, he wondered, how would he know what the right moment was.

“I want to enjoy this movie, I really do, but it’s just so… inaccurate,” Tim sighed.

“These guys wouldn’t know period-accurate if it slapped them in the face with whale-bone corset,” Conner criticized. But he wasn’t actually paying any attention to the movie they were watching. To be honest, he had no idea what it was about or what it was even called. Cassie had chosen it, but Bart had to leave ten minutes in, and fifteen minutes later Cassie remembered that she had to be a friend’s birthday party. Conner was certain that she had bailed purposefully so now it was just him and Tim. Alone in Titans Tower. And while that was fine and totally normal because it was _usually_ just him and Tim, it was a little different this time. Maybe it was the way that Tim was leaning into him. He had his feet up on the couch, tucked into his side, looking relaxed and comfortable, and _man_ if that wasn’t a sight for sore eyes. Conner had to be very careful not to let his arm slip from the top of the couch to around Tim’s shoulders, but it was just so damn tempting.

“You are so weird,” Tim laughed, looking at him for a moment. Conner looked back at him and they shared a smile. It was warm and familiar and Conner could feel something building inside of him. But then Tim almost seemed to _flinch_ and quickly looked away as the smile on his face faded away to be replaced with one of those signature guises that told Conner nothing. Usually he would have let it go, not saying anything. But he had to ask this one time.

“Are you okay?” he inquired softly, turning towards Tim.

“Yeah. I’m just glad you’re back,” he answered just as softly.

“You’ve said that about a hundred times now,” Conner chuckled.

“I know,” Tim shrugged, looking away. Conner mentally kicked himself for saying that. What if he struck nerve by accident? But Tim wasn’t _that_ sensitive of a person.

“At first I couldn’t believe it. I used to think it was all just a dream. I had so many of you being back and then I’d wake up and…. Well, I was just afraid that it was going to be like that again,” Tim said, his tone even. Conner couldn’t imagine the horror of waking up to a world where his best friend wasn’t there anymore after experiencing cruelly hopeful dreams in which they were still inseparable. But Tim had been forced to live through it. It was Tim’s personal Hell because Conner knew that the thing Tim feared most was losing the people closest to him—and it had happened over, and over, and over again until Tim’s soul was akin to an exposed nerve; raw and delicate.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Conner promised, leaning in a little closer and placing his hand on Tim’s shoulder. Tim nodded in agreement, but he didn’t seem overly convinced.

“Yeah….” Maybe this was the moment. Or maybe it wasn’t, but Conner knew he couldn’t just keep waiting _forever_. Waiting for a while was good, but waiting too long wasn’t. So maybe it was now or never.

Putting together all of his courage, Conner turned off the TV, basking the room in silence and darkness that was interrupted only by the moonlight streaming through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows of the tower.

“What are you doing?” Tim asked, more confused than alarmed, which was a good sign.

“We should talk,” Conner started.

“We talk all the time,” Tim said back at him, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. Conner had hoped that his brain was smart enough to figure out a clever and thoughtful way to bring up the voicemails at long last, but that was more of Tim’s area of expertise.

“We should talk about those voicemails,” Conner said at last, keeping his voice gentle. But he still saw Tim’s eyes go wide as his mouth fell open. He slowly rose off the couch and turned away. _Shit, shit, shit, he was panicking._ Conner got up too and placed his hand on Tim’s arm gently coaxing him into turning around. “Tim?”

“I….,” he started, but his breath seemed to die before it left his lips. He looked at Conner, startled; his blue eyes wide and his dark eyebrows furrowed in distress. He was like a deer in headlights—exactly the situation Conner wanted to avoid. Conner could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to formulate an emergency escape plan. But when it failed he swallowed visibly and said, “I thought you didn’t get them. You got a new phone and everything, so….”

“I listened to them,” Conner admitted, stepping closer. He was afraid Tim would step back, but he didn’t.

“I don’t even remember all the stupid stuff I said—shit, I’m sorry—I just wanted to hear your voice—” Tim began. He wasn’t looking at Conner anymore, his attention instead intensely fixed on Conner’s plaid shirt. He was trembling a little and _fuck_ he looked so vulnerable—this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Conner had to do something quick.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Conner said quickly, lightly gripping Tim’s shoulders, hoping his touch would calm him down, but not wanting to make him feel trapped. Tim never forgot anything. Conner knew that Tim remembered exactly what he had said on those voicemails and even if he forgot some parts, there was no way he forgot the confession part.

“Kon, I—” Tim started again. He would try and pass it all off as something silly—just the ramblings of a teenager who lost one too many people—but Conner knew that was bullshit. He knew Tim.

“Just listen to me for a sec, okay?” he requested. But he wasn’t actually prepared with something to say. He chewed his lip, trying to think of something. Ultimately, he just let his instincts take over. “You’re perfect.”

Tim looked up at him with those big blue eyes of his. They were filled with so much despair and confusion that it made Conner’s heart literally _ache_. He brought his hands up to cup Tim’s face, well aware that Tim’s heart was beating faster than it should and that he had gone as rigid as a statue—a defense mechanism Conner was familiar with. “What…?”

“Let’s start with how you’re literally the smartest person I know. I mean dude, you’d make Sherlock Holmes cry,” Conner was good at rambling, so he figured he’d stick to it and hope that somewhere along the way, he’d say something right.

“Kon—”

“You always see the good in people, even if they let you down. I’ve never met anyone more compassionate than you, Tim. If everyone was even half as good as you, the world would be a utopia and we’d be out of our night jobs—I know it,” Conner continued. He was going to tell Tim just how he felt. He was going to make Tim feel wanted, needed, and loved. “You’re so patient with everyone, even if they don’t deserve your time. You listen to what they have to say—even if you don’t always show it. You’re more concerned about everyone else than yourself which is as ridiculous as it is remarkable. You do things because they’re _right_ and not because of anything else and that’s why you’re the best of us, even if you refuse to acknowledge it

“If everyone knew how awesome you were they would feel the way I do about you. You’re so strong in so many ways that I can’t even _begin_ because it would just be doing you a grave injustice—but sometimes I swear you’re stronger and braver than any of us could even dare to be.”

“You’re having delusions of grandeur about me,” Tim said, trying weakly to pull away but giving up quickly.

“Did I mention how humble you are too? Infuriatingly so, sometimes. And you might think I’m looking at you through rose-colored glasses but that would mean that someone super-glued them to my face a really long time ago and they’re not coming off. Ever.”

“Conner….”

“I’m not done yet. I haven’t told you how much I love your eyes. As cliché as it sounds, they’re like the sky after a storm.” He placed on of his hands on Tim’s back, pulling him closer, elated at the little resistance he faced. Tim placed his hands on Conner’s shoulders, as if to steady himself. Conner continued, his voice lower and barely above a whisper, “And your lips—well, I guess I have to apologize because I haven’t been listening to half of what you’ve been saying lately because I’ve been too busy staring at them. And your hair—”

Tim’s hand slipped behind Conner’s neck and he suddenly came in close, but hesitated for just a second as though he was wondering if it was alright. Conner helped by closing the distance between their lips. He didn’t do anything else, allowing Tim to say whatever he needed to through the kiss. It was soft and unsure and wasn’t as long as Conner would have liked, but it was still as if someone set fireworks off inside his head. The only thing he could think was _finally_.

“I thought you said I needed a haircut?” Tim said after pulling away, giving Conner a mysterious look. Conner smiled and tugged slightly on one of the soft black locks that fell across Tim’s face.

“Only because it’s so distracting,” Conner admitted. “All those fantasies….”

“You’re so weird,” Tim repeated—so softly that Conner almost might not have heard it were it not for his fast-acting super-hearing. Tim hugged him, letting his head rest against Conner’s broad chest, and Conner wrapped his arms around him, holding him as closely as he had thought of doing for all this time. He understood what Tim had meant by the statement this time: _why would you want me after what I’ve become?_

“Just tell me how I can make it better,” he whispered into Tim’s hair, breathing in the scent of shampoo and hoping it would drive away the lump forming in his throat. If only he hadn’t let himself be killed, everything might not be this fucked up. “Just tell me how to fix you.”

“I dunno….Just hold me,” Tim told him. Conner knew it would take a lot more than that to put all the light back in Tim’s eyes. It would take more than that until Tim stopped looking at him as though he’d vanish. They were “alive” again—including Steph, Bart, and Bruce—but what Tim had been through was _real_ and there was no taking it back.

However, Conner was determined. He wasn’t ever going to let go. He’d squeeze all the demons out of Tim once and for all.

 “I love you, Tim,” he said. It was his turn to say it. And as he felt Tim’s grip tighten on the soft flannel of his shirt, he swore he heard something clicking back into place. Maybe things wouldn’t ever be as they were, but maybe it was the start of something new. Something greater.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired in part by the _Criminal Minds_ episode "True Night"--the voicemail idea, that is.
> 
> This happens to be my first fic on AO3, so I hope I did it right. I've had it sitting around for a while and figured that I'd post it so that others may enjoy. Please feel free to leave a comment if you liked it!


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